Should have
by headphone frenzy
Summary: He never wanted it to come to this, and he never wanted this to happen. Silver claims it was all an accident, but secretly he was dying to tell someone about it. Gold x Silver. Precioumetalshipping. AU. One shot.
1. Begin Silver

**Should have.**

AU.

One Shot.

Precious metal shipping. (Gold x Silver.)

Headphone does not own.

"Silver, aren't you warm?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"It's like, ninety degrees out, and you have that ridiculously thick jacket on."

"I need it."

"Oh, so you don't get a tan or something? God, what are you, a vampire?"

"Yeah, sure, something like that."

No one knows the horror, the words, the wounds, I hide under my jacket sleeves, and why I spent a month away visiting my 'grandma'.

All my grandparents are either dead or in another country.

But I was sweating too much to think of something to say that wouldn't sound stupid or delirious. After all, whining and bitching would do nothing to hide the scars and blood and gaping holes and clots and letters that adore my arm up to my elbow.

It was never my fault that it was a habit. It was not my fault my mom used to worry so much over my health and well being. And it has most likely never been my fault that my dad left me when I needed him most.

That time being when I went through the last procedure.

I was never this crazy, I promise.

I used to be normal. I used to climb trees with Gold, and talk and laugh and be generally dumb. Back when all things mundane where cool, I used to be captain of the cul-de-sac, the top dog or the neighborhood. Back when I could get away with running around with girls without people thinking I wanted to get in there pants, me and Crystal used to be the best of friends, dragging around her little brother on all of our little adventures.

We used to be in the same grade, Crystal and I, and we used to be in every class.

But then I feel behind in seventh grade, and then I got to have another year with my teachers. Gold then became my new best friend, I was suddenly developing acute anxiety problems, and my father started to get more and more enthralled with his work. My mother became 43 that year, and I feel like I crushed her small beating heart into splinters the day, that one fateful day in my repeated seventh grade, when the teacher asked me for a pencil and received a glance of my bloody wrists.

I had torn them up again that day in the bathroom, not even ten minutes prior. I added another stroke to the word I was completing on my arm, a single word that would say everything loudly and proudly for the unknowing world to see.

Though I never thought I would show it to my teacher first.

There was a patch of silence as the instructor tore down the sleeve of my thick black jacket, and took one long bony hand to hold my wrist in place and take a hard look at it, examining it like it was some foreign disease. They let go of it as soon as she had seen enough of it, and practically tore through her forms looking for a pass to the counselor's office.

They called my mother not five minutes later, and I could hear her low sobbing on the other line, and I could hear my heart sinking lower into my chest, into my gut. Thankfully, the retarded looking guinea pigs known as students took no heed to the quiet sobs, and murmurs and whispers.

"Your son…"

"Wrists were…"

"Were blood clots…"

"Razor was not…"

My mother was so entirely terrified as to how I could do this to myself, and I still have no answer. My lips were peeled to nothing with my anxious habit of biting them, and my throat was drier then a hot day in the middle of a desert. It felt as though everyone was staring at me, and all I could see was people whispering and smirking and I could hear bits of conversations.

"Silver cut…"

"Why would…?"

"Never told his…"

"It's terrible that…"

"Know right…?"

I shot them all blank stares, heavy glares, and something in-between, and then everything went away and I was in an office that I hoped to avoid at all costs. The teacher whispered things to the secretary, and told them a vague over cast of the situation at bay, and I felt like some sort of freak show. I was quickly escorted into my counselor's office, and all she had to ask was why I would do such a thing.

"I-I'm not exactly sure anymore. It's just- It's just a nasty habit that I can't seem to kick."

The counselor took one look at me and filled out a form, telling me where to sign, where to put down my name and sign away to devils known as shrinks.

I went into rehab three days later, and I found that Gold had missed me the month that I was gone, but Crystal missed me more. She only heard from my mother that I was missing, and when she tried to get more information out of her, she simply stated that it was all okay, and I'll be back in a little bit. I knew she was a tough girl, and I knew that the rumors would easily become postponed, considering my lack of popularity within the rules of social standards,

The month I spent in rehab, in the white rooms, was completely mind-blowing. I still have no idea why I did it in the first place. I still have no answer for question 17 that asks "What was your motive?"

I never thought about it before. I never questioned it. After hearing about it from an eighth grader, I tried it out for the first time, and after that one little taste, I started keeping a thin, stainless steel razor in the back of my phone, where the thick battery goes, and wearing, hot, black jackets with long thick sleeves during the merciless summer.

No one even noticed when I never took off my hoodie during the blazing heat, the laughing and taunting, ever-so-pleasant sun.

And while that hurts me so deeply and cold-heartedly, I'm glad that at least Gold noticed slightly, even if it was just barely enough to ask if I was warm or anything. He cared, just slightly, about my health, my well being. And I knew at that moment; I love him.

I loved love. The feeling was so melodramatic and imploring that it was welcomed so easily into my brain without a single thought of 'Hey! No! This is Gold, out of all people! Why couldn't you have at least fallen into love with a girl, or someone who you haven't known for most of your childhood?!' I ignored my gut, my brain, my instinct, and just went with the flow of the butterflies in my stomach.

People don't fall 'in' love with other people, other creatures or animals; they fall 'into' love with one another, since the roll of a 'lover' is so commonplace that everyone has one, subconsciously and without any thought to it at all.

And even though I somehow knew this was so entirely self-destructive, I knew that the brain cells in my skull were turning to spaghetti, and said pasta was frying over an open stove. I was frying the spaghetti to a golden brown, and even though the world was telling me 'This is not right', I kept it up; I held the frying pan –the murder weapon- tightly and firmly and waited for myself to come across the path unsuspectingly.

This was barely before the incident, yet I could still hear my brain ringing.

"What would you do if I kissed you?"

"What the hell?"

"I'm asking everyone I know. It's just a survey"

"Oh okay. I would probably… Just stand there like an idiot and maybe hit you after it."

He has no idea how much that hurt me. No idea at all and for all he knew, I was simply just faking, and for all I know, I was believing my own façade.

There was another star on my wrist, another slice, another bead of red rolling down my wrists, falling to my hand and onto the bathroom tile. I knew you would never see the red letters I etched into my skin, the single word I would only show to one person after the incident and the rehabilitation center I never wanted to go to. The thought of the whole scene shatters my heart in every direction, and I can't help but feel as though one day the secret I hide under my coat sleeve will lift from my chest.

Because I knew that lovely little Gold would eventually come across the scars and letters after I came out of the nasty rehabilitation center.

And when I came back, Gold was the same. A little bit shaken up by my sudden disappearance, but still the same person I fell in love with. Crystal just huffed and puffed and cried about how I should have called her, that she knew that I memorized her phone number three years ago, and that It wasn't fair that I didn't get her a postcard.

I told them all lies.

"It's a shame you couldn't have come with, after all, she's such a nice lady that I'm sure you would love her."

Gold slightly suspected, but I assured him with lies.

"No, I promise you, she's such a wonderful old lady. She's turning 85 next year but she's still got some bite left in her still. And she can make the _best_ pies in the country."

They could tell I was on something.

They could tell this wasn't my usual high.

But I knew I could live with myself and my lies, the trip I took to my 'grandma's house', and the only name I will ever keep under my musty old black jacket sleeve.

"Gold."


	2. Begin Gold

Should have.

AU.

One Shot.

Precious metal shipping. (Gold x Silver.)

I knew it was wrong.

But above all, I _knew_.

I knew the self-destruction Silver was placing himself under, and I knew every single time he lied to my face, to my back, to my _heart_, and I felt it was wrong otherwise. So, instead of catching him on his fibs, I simply took it as he would state it, and let it all slide.

My patience, however, was drawing rather thin.

He was always so secretive whenever it came to the topic of his jacket, and whenever anyone would even mention the word 'wrist', he would fidget nervously, as though blocking something out. 'Block what out?' I asked myself at first, but after putting two and two together, I came to the forth conclusion as he stated things about his 'grandmother's house, even though when he left it was anything but pleasant.

He was 'kidnapped', as my sister so plainly put it, but no one said where to. The only information that was told was that he was gone, somehow, somewhere, and he wouldn't be back for a while.

But through my naivety, and my falsehoods of stupidity, I had tried to get him, more often then not, to try and take his jacket off. There was something under there, and I had to uncover it. And, like some sort of equal reaction to a type algebraic equation, he refused just as much, saying as he was sweating profusely under the merciless sun 'I'm fine'.

Lies. I thought loudly and proudly.

All of them are lies.

But, I never once spoke up in an obvious fashion.

"Silver, aren't you warm?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"It's like, ninety degrees out, and you have that ridiculously thick jacket on."

"I need it."

"Oh, so you don't get a tan or something? God, what are you, a vampire?"

"Yeah, sure, something like that."

He has no idea how much he worried me. I acted so 'rough and tough' just because I didn't want him to know the fact of how much he concerned me. In all honesty, the majority of the time he was away at what he called his 'grandma's' house, I would fall asleep on the verge of tears, just trying my hardest to figure out what was going on in his mind. Just to think, what was going on in his heart.

Though, at the same time, I was trying to find myself.

Of course it concerned me, because he was my best friend, but something in my gut took it beyond friendship, beyond the limits of holding hands platonically with a childish air around us. Something, though I'm still not sure if it was a particularly loud thunderstorm or the feelings of love that made me realize that, without Silver, I would fall apart.

When he left, I did fall apart, if only slightly.

I wanted him back, not like he was some normal friend that went away for a week on vacation, but as though my sister herself were to suddenly leave me. I felt so terribly alone.

But somehow, I knew what this was about.

"Crys, can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

She was reading a book, probably more enthralled in the small, flimsy paperback then she was with me. Though, it didn't really matter, all I did nowadays was ramble about nothingness and pray for a response that proved my point correct.

"I've been feeling this odd sensation in my gut, like a weight is on it but I can't figure out what it is. Do you know what it is?"

"Probably love, why, do you have a crush on someone?" At this, she had gotten up, propping herself on her elbows and staring almost through my skull.

"Ah, n-no, it's just I—"

"You DO like someone!"

I could hear the spark in her voice, and I tried to sink lower into her bean bag, almost attempting to become one with the god forsaken object that refused to merge with me. The gazes she sent me were completely curious, no underlying meanings and no attempts of blackmail. Just pure, mundane, curiosity, mixed with an always-present sense of tired and bored.

"So, who's the lucky girl?"

Oh, if only she knew she just called _Silver_ a girl.

And then, it hit me, like brick to the face and clippers to a sheep:

I _liked_ Silver.

I mean, sure, I had been told time and time again that it was no big deal if I started to feel strange, obscene vibes about some of my female, and male, friends, but the thought of _Silver_ being the one to send me these odd feelings? It simply sent my brain into a slight state of shock.

Though, there was something inside me now that sent myself a message of hope. I'm not sure why I was hopeful, but I was, because somewhere inside of me, my gut had said he liked me as well.

While this was not confirmed or denied for what seemed to be years, but was actually in fact only a few weeks, something still struck me as odd.

"What would you do if I kissed you?"

"What the hell?"

It really did come out of nowhere, but to be completely honest, I was a bit upset with myself for being so completely crude.

"I'm asking everyone I know. It's just a survey"

That's was all, really! That was the whole just of it all! But, if it really was, then why was his face matching his hair, more tomato colored with each and every second. It simply struck me as rather odd, to say the very least.

"Oh okay. I would probably…"

A small pause, almost miniscule. I felt my brain rushing, my ears throbbing. I could have easily have told him how I felt at that exact moment, but something in me cowered, something inside of me shrieked 'no' as loudly as it could without being heard.

"Just stand there like an idiot and maybe hit you after it."

Now, guilt rushed over me.

He looked… relieved? No, he looked…disappointed. He looked as though he would burst into tears at any moment and simply walked away, trying to cover his face with his cherry-red hair, if only in the slightest bit.

I knew I said the wrong thing.

And I knew I was so guilty of it all.

So, after he came back, happier then ever, and with a smile that I knew so easily was just a lie to try convincing me, I felt prioritized. First thing, I would ask him where he was, and afterwards, I would apologize, maybe for something I did wrong while he was wrong, or maybe something before he left.

I'm not sure what it was for, but somehow he knew what had to be done. Or at least, I feel that he did. I'm not actually positive on this little factor, however. For all I know, he could have been using his typical 'smile and nod' technique his mother had taught him.

"Silver, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He sounded uneasy, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

"For, well, I'm not sure. It just felt like the right thing to say."

There was an akward moment of silence, and in the miniscule time period in which no words escaped either of our lips, all I could hear was a car alarm blaring in the distance, almost like a red flag but not quiet. I could see his face turn a light shade of pink, and I figured that was another bad sign as well, but I simply ignored it as just that, and nothing more and nothing less.

"Oh. I see."

Maybe he was just lying. I'm not truly sure if he actually understood what I was trying to hint at, but if he did, it wouldn't have been so shocking as to what I did next.

A simple movement.

So very simplistic and without any meanings either hidden or exposed.

Yet, it spoke in volumes that hair pins and barrettes could not simply fathom. I approached him, gently yet with a firm enough force that he didn't dare to back down. For, you see, he _never_ would have backed down from a challenge back then, not once in his whole decade plus however many years would he ever even _dare_ to shy away from a challenge, especially with me.

I grabbed his arms, a simple gesture, yes? He didn't seem that phased by it, a bit curious and concerned, yes, but not enough that it would visibly show on his face.

Though, the next movement was far from a simpletons reign of dictation, for within the next millisecond, my lips were locked onto his, planted firmly and with a sense of clumsiness. He tasted like sweat mixed with a stale sort of apple pastry, although it wasn't even like it was displeasing. It was _because_ of this sudden taste, unlike anything described in any book, game, diary (ahem _crystal_) or even parental lecture, that I had gotten such a liking when, rare as it was, Silver kissed me.

The first kiss was like every other.

Though, the only thing that was different was that I hadn't expected him to push back, to accept it plainly, and put forth effort, with whatever sloppy skills he had.

It was comforting, somehow.

To know that he would almost always push back, despite the complete spontaneity that I had planted down the first one, without any words or even gestures that could set up a little notice saying 'prepate yourself'.

Though, after that first kiss, we had made it official.

"Gold. I like you."

"As do I."

There was a momentary silence, but it was quickly shattered like a mirror to the floor.

"What? Like yourself?"

I scoffed a bit, sucking all of the juice I could out of a typical Capri sun, the strawberry mix taking wonderfully to my throat, healing it momentarily from the merciless sun above our heads.

"No, I like you."

The wind blew through our hair as we sat in his backyard, the green grass mixing with over-cooked strands of dried shrubs, but the duo paid it no mind. The porch in the tomato-haired male's backyard was shielded by a large over-head canopy, though it didn't do much for our bare feet, sizzling hotly in the sunlight.

"Oh really?"

A cloud covered up the sun, if only for a moment, and all they could do was thank the water-infested fluffiness for the covering.

"Yeah. By the way, why are you still wearing a jacket?"

I hadn't _really_ expected him to answer, all I had expected was maybe a nervous chuckle, and maybe even a little clip of a 'nothing'. Though, without my even realizing what was going, he had taken it off, showing my his wrist. At that point in time I didn't know if I was either loved, or if I was disturbed. Because, with several strokes, marks, and scars, he had spelled out a word that both confused me and allowed me to realize how much I meant to him.

"This is why."

It took me a few moments to realize what it said, but after I had read it, I felt oddly reassured, and from then on I knew he would always remember me, through good times and bad.

"Gold."

(x)

DONE.

I promised you guys a second chapter, and this is what you get!

I hope you guys like it, I personally do. Originally, though, I wasn't planning on making it so lovey-dovey in terms of Gold, but I see him being a shy kid who portrays himself as a toughie in order to keep people from making fun of the fact that he's a silly, cute, and bashful boy going through the troubles of puberty.

If I get enough reviews I _may_ do a third chapter, but that's a huge 'maybe'. (If I get at least 15 I'll start working on it.)


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